This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

"Damn, damn, damn," Hermione chanted as she sprinted through the heavy, fat raindrops that pelted down from the heavens. She wasn't normally one for cursing, but after the day she'd had, she discovered that there weren't nearly enough four-and-five-lettered words in the English language.

The day had started off badly, and had only gotten worse from there. First, she and Harry had an argument - about what, she couldn't remember. He had Apparated away to work, leaving her standing alone in their kitchen. After that particular fiasco, she had somehow managed to spill coffee on her clean blouse and was forced to hurriedly change, but since she changed her blouse, she also had to change her entire outfit to go with he new blouse, making her five minutes late for work. Her co-workers had teased her mercilessly about it, since everyone could set their watches to Hermione's promptness. Her figures wouldn't add up, the research wouldn't make sense, not a damn thing had gone right. Her guilt about her fight with Harry in the morning prompted her to head for the Muggle grocery store not too far from their loft to pick out dinner. She had somehow managed to be propositioned three times, and she was sure that the young man who bagged her groceries was ogling her backside as she swept out the door. Given Murphy's Law, her one of her bags tore, fortunately about a block from the loft, nearly causing her to break down into tears. Then, the rainstorm that had been threatening all day had finally unleashed itself and opened up the heavens.

Diving into the lobby, juggling the one remaining sack, now loaded to the brim with her purchases, she managed to hit the top floor button on the elevator. Leaning back against the wall for a brief moment, she wondered if the elevator would stop working as well. But it carried her smoothly up to the top floor, depositing her in the narrow hallway between the two large loft-style apartments. The one on the right she shared with Harry, while the one on the left belonged to an elderly Muggle couple, Madeline and David Radbury, who had been living there ever since World War Two. Blowing a couple of damp tendrils out of her face on a sigh of relief, she walked to the doorway and nearly knocked something over before she stopped. Looking down, she saw a bottle of wine with a large green bow wrapped around it. It was sitting on top of a piece of parchment, the kind only the magical world used.

Unlocking the door with her key, she bent over and set the groceries inside the doorway, then picked up the wine bottle curiously. Rolling it over in her hand to see the label, she got her first chuckle of the day. The label read Bad Faith.

"Cute, Malfoy," she muttered to thin air as she picked up the parchment. The writing looked as if it were done by two different people, which of course, it was.

Dear Potter and Granger - The bold, stylized writing started out.

Harry and Hermione - the different writing said.

We're having a wonderful time in France. I'd almost forgotten how much I loved my family's vineyard. Seeing Ginny enjoy it as well - that's the true beauty of it. This is the first bottle of this year's crop, and I would be highly disappointed if you and Potter don't try some of it.

'I've had a taste of it right out of the vat, and Hermione, I swear to you, this is the best thing for relaxing after a long day.

'Or getting ready for a long night.

Hermione chuckled again. It figured that Draco would be the one to write that, and she could almost see Ginny's mock-glare at her husband of three years, along with his unrepentant smirk. We're off to the Riviera in the morning, as Draco has promised a day on the beach for me. I'll tell you all about it when I get back home.

Love, Ginny and Draco

Hermione smiled wistfully at the thought of the warmth of the Riviera. Shaking herself out of the fantasy, she looked down at the very bottom, where it looked as if Draco had put in a post-script.

'We finally feel ready - don't be surprised if Ginny comes home with more than a tan and a few bottles of wine. -Draco'

Now she smiled fully. It sounded quite suspiciously like Ginny and Draco were going to try for a child while in France, and given Ginny's family history, Hermione wouldn't be surprised at all if the attempt was more than successful.

Looking at the wine bottle in her hand and the grocery sack sitting on the floor, she decided that dinner could wait until she'd relaxed in a hot bath and had a cool glass of wine. Stepping inside, she closed the door, making sure that it was firmly shut before drawing her wand and levitating the grocery sack into the kitchen. She carried the note and wine bottle in her other hand. Waving her wand once more, she sent the various things to their respective places, then uttered a cooling spell at the wine bottle. Condensation immediately started to form on the bottle. Grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard, she walked to their room, then set both items down on the bed. Undressing as normal, she tossed her clothes into the hamper, pinned up her hair, grabbed the wine and her glass, and stepped into the bathroom. There, against the wall was an antique claw foot tub, perfect for soaking in.

Pouring the water, she added a capful of bubbles to it and tested the temperature again. While the water was still filling up, she glanced around and spotted a book lying on her nightstand. Looking back at the tub once to make sure it still had a way to go before it was full, she dashed back into the room and grabbed the book, then dashed back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Ginny had given her the book, saying that she couldn't get more than two chapters in before having to stop. Hermione, not really liking the romance novel-genre, decided to give it a fair chance and read the first two chapters, rationalizing that she could just stop if she didn't like the story. By the time she started chapter three, Hermione understood why Ginny couldn't read any further. The main characters in the book were so much like Harry and herself, it almost made Hermione a little uncomfortable reading it, but she found herself unable to stop.

Shutting off the taps, she poured her wine, setting it safely on the small shelf just above the tub, leaving the bottle sitting off to the side. Taking her first sip of the wine, she smiled. 'Never let it be said that the Malfoy vineyard produced a bad wine,' she thought to herself. Setting the wine back down, she picked up the book and opened it. Her eyes skimmed over half a page, and she nearly set the book back down. It was quite obvious where the characters were going to do, but with a sense of fascination, Hermione kept reading, taking occasional sips of her wine, feeling her body respond to the words written on the page.

'He dragged his lips down the smooth column of her neck, occasionally stopping to nip at the skin, then lave it with his tongue.'

She wished Harry was there, but it was entirely possible that he would have to work late yet again. Her hand, unbeknownst to herself, had started rubbing gently against her neck, her finger gently tracing the curve of her collarbone. She could feel the blush staining her cheeks as she read on, the lovers consummating their relationship. As the people in the book lay in bed, sweaty and loved, she closed the book, threw it on the floor and grabbed her wine. Tossing the little bit left in the glass back in one go, she set her glass back down and leaned her head back. Her imagination took flight as she imagined the book's most recent scene to be acted out with Harry and herself.

She could feel Harry's hands gliding over her body, caressing her gently. Harry's hands - they were no longer hers - trailed down to her breasts, gently rolling her nipples between his fingers. Her breath caught, hitched in her chest, as Harry's magic worked its way through her system, even though he wasn't there. His hands gently played with her breasts before one became bold enough to dip below the water, rubbing her stomach, over her hips, gently spreading her thighs apart slightly. She moaned softly, anticipating the next touch.

Harry unlocked the door wearily. He absolutely detested fighting with Hermione, as it put a negative spin on his entire day, and today was no exception. While coming home, he had stopped at a sidewalk flower vendor and picked up a dozen red roses for her. He looked for her in the kitchen first, already knowing that she was home, but found only a grocery sack and a piece of parchment lying open on the table. He picked it up and read over it, a smile lighting up his handsome features. Malfoy had never steered them wrong when it came to wines, and he was sure that this bottle would be no exception. But that left the question of where the bottle was. Opening the refrigerator, he didn't see a bottle of wine, but he did see new groceries - explaining the grocery sack still sitting out.

Wandering back towards their room, still holding the roses, he thought he heard a moan. Standing very still, he listened intently. A louder moan reached his ears. It didn't register with him yet that no person in pain moaned like that, but he dashed through their room and stopped at the closed door of the bathroom. Turning the knob, he opened the door slightly and stuck his head in - and then froze.

Harry was doing delightfully wicked things to her body, taking her up a spiral that was very familiar, yet felt new every time. "Harry," she whimpered, entreating him to take her higher.

Harry, still standing frozen in the doorway, had never felt his blood head south faster than it did just then. Hermione - *his* Hermione - was pleasuring herself while lost in a fantasy - of him. Her head was thrown back, her cheeks flushed from a mix of the wine and pleasure, her breaths were short, interspersed with a repertoire of moans, sighs, and whimpers. Her breasts - by Merlin, did he love her breasts - rose and fell with each breath in and out of the water. Pulling his head out of the doorway, he wasn't surprised to find himself breathing hard as well.

He was faced with two clear choices - the one deciding to keep silent about the whole thing rendered moot point as soon as Hermione moaned his name again. Tugging his jacket and tie off, he tossed the roses on the bed and opened the door once again. Her eyes were still closed, providing him ample opportunity to get close to her. Her mouth was parted, allowing her breath to escape. He stalked silently up to the side of the tub and knelt down. He watched her hungrily for a moment before crushing his lips against hers.

Hermione's eyes flew open as her almost-real fantasy was interrupted by a very real reality. The black hair, glasses, the scar - the *taste* - it was Harry. Closing her eyes, she moaned into his mouth while threading her fingers through his hair.

Once he had released her mouth from his, her eyes fluttered back open. "Harry," she breathed, a mix of emotions in her voice. He shushed her with a finger against her lips.

"Come to bed?" he asked hopefully, as if he were hoping that she would say yes. She rested her hands on the sides of the tub and pushed herself up out of the water. Harry trailed his eyes down her body, chasing the water that ran in rivulets down her soft skin, until the rivulets became drops of water that clung to her skin. She stepped out of the tub and was completely unprepared for Harry pulling her against him and practically devouring her whole.

When she opened her eyes again, breathing hard, she was more than surprised to find herself on their bed, a dozen roses resting on the bedspread, and Harry resting on top of her, his delicious weight a welcome burden. His eyes were burning with heat, with desire, and most of all, with love. He framed her face in a display of tenderness.

His eyes telegraphed his sorrow at their earlier fight.

"It's all right, Harry," she whispered back, her eyes telegraphing back her love, her apology, her acceptance. "Just make love to me, please."

He nodded once and rolled off of her, making her feel bereft for a moment. He undressed quickly and slid back on top of her, skin against skin. Hermione arched against him, a wordless plea. He slid into her in one long stroke, burying himself to the hilt within her. Her hips undulated against him as she moaned her pleasure at the joining of their bodies. Pulling out and pushing back in once more, he could feel Hermione start to shiver, a sure sign of her climax approaching. 'She must have been very close when I interrupted her,' he thought to himself. Moving within her again, he wasn't surprised to feel her climax hit her within a few more strokes. Watching her face, feeling her body contract around his, it was a surprise that his heart didn't have to be broken in two to hold all the love he felt for the woman beneath him. Groaning, he moved swiftly within her, rebuilding the fire her climax had just banked. Her eyes widened as she felt her body respond so quickly to his movements - not in shock, but in pure pleasure with a touch of wonderment.

This time, they both felt their climaxes hit at the same time. Shouting each other's names, they drifted back to earth nestled in the other's arms.

Harry slipped out of her and rolled over on his side, bringing Hermione with him. "How was the wine?" he asked, finally breaking the blissful silence.

"Good, just as you knew it would be."

His eyes lit up. "Perhaps a little wine tasting is in order," he said before rolling off the bed and walking into the bathroom.

Turning over onto her side, her eyes followed him, slightly curious as to what he meant. She had only taken one glass with her. As Harry came back into the room with just the wine bottle, still chilled from her earlier spell, she got the feeling that Harry didn't mean tasting the wine from a glass.

"Roll over on your back, love. You're going to love this," he said.

She looked deep into his green eyes, already dark with renewed passion, and licked her lips. "I think I am," she said.

fini.